


Change Is Gonna Come

by Napisala



Series: In Which [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Mutually Unrequited, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3425099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Napisala/pseuds/Napisala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's always been an option, how will Abby handle it when he...isn't?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change Is Gonna Come

**Author's Note:**

> In which Abby does some reflecting…

“So so so so SO itchy!”

Abby wondered absentmindedly how Gibbs would react if she asked him to bring her some sandpaper at work tomorrow. “Probably wouldn’t bat an eyelash, knowing him.”

The thought of her silver haired fox makes her smile for a few moments but it’s not long before her itchiness pushes its way to the front of her consciousness. She pulls her shirt up over her head roughly and practically flings it at the coffin before pouting at her reflection in the mirror. What starts out as a deep cleansing breath ends up as more of a huff and Abby stomps across the room, stripping clothes off along the way.

She’s naked by the time she crosses the threshold into the bathroom, thankful not to feel fabric rubbing against her skin any longer. She’s on autopilot as she turns on the shower and checks the temperature, her mind tumbling a million miles away with one persistent refrain:

“I hate change.”

Warm water pelting her skin is a relief and Abby lets her brain flit from one supposition to the next as she goes through her routine in the shower.

‘What kind of name is Delilah anyway? How did they even meet? And seriously, the DOD? Since when did McGee turn into such an alphabet whore? Lord only knows who she really works for. That All-American good girl thing she’s got going is probably just some undercover persona. She’s probably a spy from New Zealand or Lithuania or Iceland because if you’re from out of town on a top secret mission, Timothy McGee is the man you want to lure into a fake relationship.’

The corners of her lips turn down slightly as she steps out of the shower. “That was unkind. …I mean, yeah it could possibly be true but still, not very kind.”

The towel gets tossed into the hamper and Abby returns to her room, her bare feet padding softly across the carpet this time. She’s back in front of the mirror, still naked, her pale skin flushed lightly pink and fading from the warm shower and subsequent terrycloth rubdown. Side to side her body twists as her emerald eyes trail over her own curves and valleys, contemplating them absentmindedly, not coming to any particular conclusions.

Tim had always liked her breasts, she remembers as she cups them in her palms. Awkward as he could sometimes be back then, he had never failed to tell her and show her how much he appreciated her body. How much he appreciated her. It was an intoxicating feeling, that appreciation. And McGee could always be counted on for the occasional hit through the years, long after their romantic relationship had ended.

“This is definitely a nightgown kind of night.”

Abby slips the short silky nightgown over her head and smoothes down the hem, just barely skimming the curve of her ass. She takes her time rubbing rich lotion into her skin and by the time she’s ready to climb into the coffin she’s realized a few things. She may not be the marrying type, but anytime she’s indulged in that sort of thinking it’s always been Tim on the other side of that dream. Dear, sweet, serious Timothy McGee whose touches were nearly reverent, who never labeled her, never asked her to be anything but herself, who was honest and funny and loyal and brave. The idea of building a life on such a fine foundation was comforting but at the same time frightening enough to make her believe that such dreams were destined to remain in Morpheus‘ arms.

Most importantly, she reminded herself that Tim was her friend and she was his. Whatever else was or had ever been or could ever be, they would always be friends. This was comforting and not at all frightening. She resolved to be nicer to Delilah the next time they met, Icelandic spy or not. Her friend McGee deserved no less. Some things, after all, never changed.


End file.
